


I Heard Something About Spaghetti?

by hey_its_lyn



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Clark Kent likes hugs, Cranky Bruce Wayne, Fluff, Lonely Tim Drake, Other, POV Clark Kent, Protective Clark Kent, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Tim Drake is Not Robin, he is a baby, smol baby, so he gives one to Tim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-25 14:14:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30090336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hey_its_lyn/pseuds/hey_its_lyn
Summary: One day, when Clark is almost finished arresting one of Luthor’s Cadmus goons, wanting nothing more than to go back to his apartment, eat a slice of Ma’s apple pie, and sleep for a solid eight hours, the boy's voice echoes in his ears, full of absolute indignation.“Superman, you need to tell Batman that he’s such a jerk!”Clark nearly trips over his own cape, and the only thing that keeps him from laughing like a maniac is handing over the goon to the police officer manning the department’s front desk for the evening.“Just who does he think he is?” the boy says irritably. “‘Go home, kid.’ ‘Don’t make me call your parents, kid.’ He’s not my dad!”Or, in which Tim Drake starts talking to Superman when no one is around to listen. Unknown to him, Superman can actually hear everything he is saying.
Relationships: Tim Drake & Clark Kent
Comments: 48
Kudos: 365





	I Heard Something About Spaghetti?

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a Tumblr post I now can't find. Give me a bit and I'll link it here. Whoops.

Clark is on his way to work, exhaustion tugging at his bones, relishing in the smell of the warm coffee in his hands when he hears it.

_ “Hi, Superman.” _

Clark freezes. His first instinct is to drop the coffee, duck into an alley, and take off so he can find whoever called his name. Then, he realizes that the voice is not actually in the same general vicinity, but rather, from the sounds of it, on the opposite side of Delaware Bay, near Gotham.

_ “Mom and dad left for Lake Baikal, so I didn’t get to show them any of the pictures I took while they were gone. I think you’d like them. I got a really good shot of a bald eagle flying over the river. You’d like that right? I mean, the bald eagle is the national bird, and you’re kinda like the pro-Americana… I don’t know. Like, when the government wants to brag about how cool the US is, they’re like, “well, we got Superman” because you’re supposed to be all--”  _ The child’s voice (and there’s no way this isn’t a child) deepens as he impersonates what Clark assumes is supposed to be himself-- _ “freedom, truth and the American way. No, wait, isn’t that Captain America?” _

Clark laughs despite himself, shaking his head and continuing down the road towards the office. The child continues, talking about the pictures he just finished developing and how Mr. Young totally missed the main point of “The Monkey’s Paw” in honors English the other day.

Eventually, the child yelps something about missing the bus, and Clark smiles and heads into the office.

The voice pipes up every now and then, telling Superman about what he talked about in school that day and how his adventures in photography are going. It makes Clark smile, though he does occasionally wonder where the boy’s parents are, as he only mentions them in passing.

Sometimes the boy launches into a lengthy explanation about how he spent a whole two hours laying on his stomach in the park, hoping for a cute squirrel to crawl out of a small hole hidden underneath a cluster of tree roots, luring him out with corn and walnuts.

Others, the boy rambles about grouchy Mrs. Mac (who Clark assumes is his caretaker, since his parents don’t seem to be in the picture) can be and how he just wants a hug. Clark’s heart breaks just a little bit on those days.

One day, when Clark is almost finished arresting one of Luthor’s Cadmus goons, wanting nothing more than to go back to his apartment, eat a slice of Ma’s apple pie, and sleep for a solid eight hours, the boy's voice echoes in his ears, full of absolute indignation.

_ “Superman, you need to tell Batman that he’s such a jerk!” _

Clark nearly trips over his own cape, and the only thing that keeps him from laughing like a maniac is handing over the goon to the police officer manning the department’s front desk for the evening.

_ “Just who does he think he is?”  _ the boy says irritably.  _ “‘Go home, kid.’ ‘Don’t make me call your parents, kid.’ He’s not my dad!” _

Clark presses his lips together to smother a smile. He waves goodbye to the officer leading the goon off to the overnight cells and slips outside, kicking off the ground and beginning his short flight home.

_ “I mean, he dresses up like a bat and punches people all night! It’s not like he’s a… a… paragon of healthy coping mechanisms! All I wanted was to take a picture of Wayne Enterprises’ exhibit in the park on green energy. The light display is only on at night! I can’t get pictures of it during the day!” _

Clark slips into his apartment through the window, tugging off his cape as he laughs.

_ “It’s not like he obviously cares that much. ‘Where’re your parents?’ my butt! The jerkface didn’t even make sure I got home okay; he just told me to leave the park like the big stupid head he is.” _

Clark is wheezing from how hard he’s laughing. There are tears gathering in the corner of his eye, and he wishes that he could tease Bruce about this at the next JLA meeting, but that would mean revealing that he listens to a little boy from Gotham tell him about his day.

He supposes that on the surface, eavesdropping on a child does seem like a creepy thing to do. Is it really eavesdropping if the kid is talking to him though? Even if he doesn’t know that Clark can actually hear him.

Either way, he enjoys these one-sided conversations, and he doesn’t want to give them up.

The boy huffs, sighing deeply.  _ “I’m sorry I called Batman mean names, even if he deserves it.” _ Clark’s smile softened fondly. He feels a twinge in his chest when the little boy sniffles sadly.  _ “I… I just wanted to take some pictures. He didn’t need to be so mean about it. It’s not my fault there isn’t anyone to take me to this stuff.” _

Not for the first time, he wonders if he should tell Batman anyway, because there is a small child who is almost completely on his own in a city as dangerous as Gotham. But then again, there are a lot of small children left alone in a city like Gotham. Batman can’t help them all, but… Maybe Superman can help this one.

Clark spends his free time scheming, trying to find a way to check in on the child without seeming too creepy and revealing that, yes, the boy has actually been talking directly to him over the past few months. He doesn’t want to tip off Bruce, either, because Rao knows that man is as inflexible as a steel pole.

_ “I’m going to try and actually make dinner tonight. I’m really tired of chicken noodle soup, but I heard that spaghetti isn’t too hard to make. Do you wanna stop by and eat with me?” _

He wants to intervene, though he’s not sure if he should. The boy has a guardian, even if Mrs. Mac is apparently a grouchy middle-aged woman. He goes to school and gets good grades (he was very happy to tell Clark he made the honor roll at the end of the semester that week).

_ “Nevermind,” _ he grumbles.  _ “No one ever wants to eat with me. It’s fine. You probably got better stuff to do anyway. _

The decision is made for him when he hears the boy scream.

Clark doesn’t realize what he’s done until he’s done it.

There’s a hole in the wall, crumbling behind him, gunmen standing shocked still, guns dangling loosely from their grasp, their eyes wide behind their cheap ski masks, and there are dozens of children blinking at him from where they lay scattered across the ballroom floor. Best of all, Bruce is standing in front of what Clark now realizes is Wayne Manor’s grand staircase, hands held behind his head, glaring at Clark like he can burn a hole straight through his head.

After the attempted thieves have been arrested, the children escorted home, and Commissioner Gordon has stared him down before offering a quick thanks and walking away (that man may be more terrifying than Batman), Bruce grabs him by the elbow and drags him down to the Batcave.

“What,” he snarls, fingers digging dangerously tight into Clark’s ever so invulnerable elbow “were you thinking?”

“Um--” Clark sheepishly scratches the back of his head-- “Oops?”

“Oops?” Bruce repeats. “I’m going to need a lot better than oops, Clark.”

Clark shifts from foot to foot. “Well, you see…”

Twenty minutes later, Clark is gently tapping on a kitchen window. He winces when he hears a large crash and a shriek. Moments later, the window flies open, and a tiny head of black hair pops out.

“Superman?” a familiar voice squeaks.

Clark grins. “Hi there. I heard something about spaghetti?”

**Author's Note:**

> Clark learns that Tim can make spaghetti, despite the fact that he can't reach the stove without a step stool. He also learns that Tim is a full six years old, and since he's such a big boy, Mrs. Mac only has to come on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays now. He calls Bruce to ask how to apply to foster a child.
> 
> To those who were wondering, Tim is at a holiday gala at Wayne Manor with the rest of the children from his school. A handful of gunmen figure it's a great setup to rob one of the richest men in the world. Tim screams when the first shots are fired, and since Clark is used to listening to him, he drops everything and flies to Gotham for the rescue. Bruce is not happy.
> 
> Bruce is also not happy that Clark got to adopt a black-haired, blue-eyed little boy before him. (Dick is still his ward.) (Clark sues the Drake's for custody. He wins a few weeks before Tim's eighth birthday.) (Bruce gets Jason a year later and calls it good.)


End file.
